Cole hadn’t truly grasped how much he needed to get away until he hit the Calypso Falls town limits and saw the town fading in his rearview mirror. He’d expected to be fighting off twinges of guilt, but instead, he was hit with a blast of pure bliss. For the next twenty-four hours, he could forget about everything except eating, sleeping, and bedding Jenna, all of it in a place where he knew nobody and nobody knew him. He hadn’t felt this free since he’d picked up the last box of his things and walked out of his New York office.
He turned the radio dial away from NPR and back to his pre-election preferred classic rock station. This was a day for singing along with something loud and fast and wailing.
Eric Clapton. Perfect.
Cole made his turn into the parking lot of the bus station where Jenna had insisted he pick her up. Despite the fact that he could have simply driven around the back of the strip mall if she was worried about them being seen together, she had been adamant.
“Call me paranoid, but I don’t want to give my father any more ammunition to use against us,” she had said on the phone. “It’s the bus station or nothing.”
So here he was, singing about Layla as he pulled up to the curb. Poor old Clapton. His life had been a mess when he wrote that song, and the fact that he was in love with the wife of his buddy George Harrison had probably been the worst of it. Cole felt for the guy. Falling for someone you knew you could never have . . . not a good place.
It made for some damned fine music, though.
Jenna popped out of the building in a ridiculously oversized straw hat and sunglasses. Should he tell her that between those and the bright turquoise overnight bag flung over her shoulder, she was probably more noticeable than she would have been had she simply walked out undisguised?
She tossed her bag into the backseat, hopped into the front, and slid down as low as she could. “Get us out of here. I think I saw someone I went to high school with.”
“Not until you fasten your seat belt.”
He didn’t have to see behind her glasses to know she was scowling. It was there in the sudden tightness of her chin. “I will. But I can’t hide and—”
“Nobody is tailing us, Jenna, and this car isn’t moving until I know you’re safe. So if you want us to get moving, sit up and fasten your seat belt.”
“Were you a flight attendant in a previous life?” But after a fast check of the window, she pushed upright. As soon as Cole heard the metallic click, he pulled away from the curb.
Slowly, though. Just to piss her off.
“So you think you saw someone you know?” He knew she wouldn’t like the question. Too bad. This was his revenge for all the times she had teased him.
“Yes. I’m not positive, because, you know.” She tugged on the brim of the hat. “But it still gave me the heebie-jeebies.”
“I never would have noticed.”
“Hey. If you’re going to lose this election, it’s going to be on your own merits, not because I messed things up for you.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” He checked the mirror and turned the corner. “There. We’re out of sight of the station. You can take off your disguise.”
“Not until we’re an hour out of town.”
“Jenna. Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?”
“Of course I am. But it’s for a good cause.” She ran a slow hand along his thigh. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to play Undercover Spy being forced to spill state secrets. I figure this counts as getting into character.”
His grip on the wheel tightened. “And my role in this scenario?”
“Why, you’ll be the one making me beg for mercy, of course.”
He swore he could watch his concentration fly out the window.
“Do me a favor?” he asked.
“Anything.”
“No more bedroom talk until we’re at the hotel. Otherwise I’m going to end up driving us off the road, and you’ve had your share of accidents already in this lifetime.”
She sighed. “Someday you men will learn to multitask.”
“What if I said that when it comes to you, I’d rather be sure I can give you every bit of my attention?”
She sat back with a laugh. “I’d say you redeemed yourself amazingly well there, Mr. Dekker.”
“A credit to my gender?”
“Trust me, you already had that nailed.”
He grinned and turned onto Route 96. It was a blue-sky autumn day, the leaves were fully ablaze, the temperature would be perfect for walking, and he was going to spend the afternoon exploring both a nice town and an amazing woman. A guaranteed win. His favorite kind.
“So I think we need a couple of ground rules for this getaway,” Jenna said. “First, no discussing the election. Not only do we talk about that all the time, but the whole purpose of bringing you along was to make sure you get a break from it.”
“I thought I was supposed to force you to divulge state secrets.”
“That, too.”
“What, that’s an afterthought now?”
“Trying to make sure we arrive intact, Sparky.” She lifted his hand from her thigh—when had it landed there?—and placed it on the wheel. “Second, we aren’t to discuss the interview. I’ve gone over everything a bajillion times, I knocked it out of the park in the first round, and I will do much better if I show up relaxed and confident. Which I won’t be if I’m up all night rehearsing my pitch.”
“Ah, so that’s why I’m here. To make sure you’re so relaxed that you don’t have any trouble sleeping.”
“You saw right through me. Think you’re up for the job?”
He was half-tempted to pull off the road and give her a brief preview of his qualifications, but focused on the nonexistent traffic instead. The more he stayed the course now, the faster they would be in Brockport.
“Final rule. No, wait. Number three: there will be ice cream.”
“You have to make that a rule?”
“Ice cream is important to me, Dekker, and all too rare. So yes. It’s a rule.”
“Okay. And the last one?”
“The last one. Well.” She tugged on her seat belt. “That would be that I bring you up-to-date on my parental unit, and then we not mention him again, either.”
He wouldn’t have worried if not for the way her words became more clipped.
“Okay.” Best to ease his way into this one. “I take it you talked to him.”
“Yes. We reached an agreement.”
Cole knew he shouldn’t automatically assume the agreement would be unfair to Jenna. He did it anyway.
“And?”
“And, Daddy dearest and I will be having breakfast a couple of times. In return, he will stay away from anything to do with the election.”
Cole twisted in his seat and checked. The hat and glasses made it hard to be sure, but he was pretty certain that she wasn’t happy.
“Jen, you don’t have to do this. Not for me.”
Her silence went on so long that he started to think he’d said something wrong.
“You know,” she said slowly, “if you tell this to any of my sisters I’ll say you’re delusional, but the honest truth is that I think that this is the excuse I was waiting for.”
He reached over and yanked the hat from her head. She yelped and jammed it into place.
“What was that for?”
“To make sure this is the same woman who kicked Robert Elias out of the coffee shop. Twice. Very eloquently, too.”
“Yes, you idiot. But that was different.”
“Obviously.” He checked the rearview. Nothing. “Explain it to me anyway.”
“When he came into the shop, and when he showed up at the debate . . . those were on his terms. His timetable. He caught me by surprise and I don’t deal well with that.”
“Okay.”
“But if I’m setting the time and the place, and I have time to be prepared . . . then the playing field is level.”
That, he could understand.
“Makes sense,” he said cautiously. “But does this mean you want to talk to him?”
“Want to? Not really. More like . . . I don’t know. I guess I feel I need to do this. Not just for you, though yes, if we’re being honest, I would do it to keep him away from you.”
“I told you, you don’t—”
“Yes, I do. Because your willingness to take me on despite my name shouldn’t be repaid with nastiness. And because the election is important to you, which means it’s important to me. And because I think you would make a damned fine mayor and I don’t want the town to have to muddle along with Tadeson for another two years just because my slimeball father mucked things up.”
If he hadn’t had to focus on the road, he would have kissed her. “That’s a pretty generous position from someone who can’t wait to leave the town behind.”
Her shrug was short and tight. “I told you, I don’t have anything against Calypso Falls itself. It’s just that I’ll always be an Elias when I’m there.”
But if that was all . . .
No. That was enough, he knew. At least it was for her. So it had to be enough for him.
“Anyway, the thing is, I am leaving. I’m not sending Robert a change of address card, so if I want to have a chance to grill him in person, this is it.”
“And because you’re officially doing it to help me, you won’t lose face by meeting with him.”
“I’m devious, I know, but yes.”
“You’re not devious, Jenna. You’re human. You’re making the best of a lousy situation, and you’re honest enough to admit to having mixed motives. In my book, that just makes it all the more admirable.”
“Good. My biggest fear in life was that I would die without ever doing something worthy of admiration.”
He would have laughed. But he wasn’t entirely sure she was joking. And given everything she had just admitted, he suspected that she might not be so certain herself.
***
True to his word, as soon as Jenna indicated that the subject of her father was finished, Cole refrained from referring to Rob again. But just because he wasn’t speaking about the man didn’t mean he’d forgotten about him.
Not constantly, of course. There was too much else happening, and all of it was a lot more compelling than a reappearing father. When they arrived in Brockport, Jenna asked to swing past the building where she would be interviewing, simply to orient herself. He teased her that she had broken her own rule and would need punishment, but when they finally made it to the hotel and were alone in the room, it turned out that he was the one who ended up begging for mercy.
Not that he was complaining.
They ventured out for a late lunch in the peak of the afternoon warmth. It was too gorgeous to sit inside—as Jenna pointed out, winter would be around soon enough to make that non-negotiable—so he’d been more than happy with her suggestion of sandwiches in the park along the Erie Canal. They sat on benches and watched the sun glint off the water, then shaded their eyes to squint at the geese starting their southward flight.
Cole tried hard not to think about Jenna’s impending flight. He wasn’t very successful.
They walked along the old towpath and shared a bag of sour cream and onion chips while telling stories about everything and nothing. He learned about her childhood insistence on wearing only purple clothing. She laughed at his admission that when he was a kid, he had played the viola for a year.
“Seriously? I would have thought you were more of a saxophone man.”
Which amazed him because, yes, after the viola he had indeed taken up the sax. Tenor. And had enjoyed it a lot more.
“You lawyers,” she teased. “You always have to have something to do with your mouths.”
It had been so funny and she had grinned up at him so appealingly from the curve of his arm that he had kissed her right there, long and deep, in the middle of a crowd of joggers and bikers and strollers, just because he could. And because he knew that once they went back to Calypso Falls, he couldn’t. Not like this. Not where anyone could see.
They walked hand in hand through the restored Victorian downtown, peeking in store windows, bumping hips, trading bites of ice cream. There had been dinner and more stories and a slow walk back to the hotel, punctuated by kisses beneath streetlights and sweetened by her head on his shoulder. Much as he wanted to get her back to the room, he found himself longing to walk even slower. To freeze this interlude when they could wander and be themselves in public. To soak up every minute of this time together while he had it.
Later that night, after he’d willingly done his part to make sure she was too sated to even think of waking in the night, he held her close and kissed the spot beside her ear. She smiled in her sleep and burrowed in closer, and he was pretty sure that this was about as amazing as life could get.
Which scared the crap out of him.
He’d known Jenna only a few months. They’d been together only a handful of weeks. Yet he knew that he was already closer to her, more tied to her, than he had been to Meredith. Knew, too, that it wasn’t just afterglow making him feel this way. It had been there in the park, when she pretended to read his mind and got a scary number of things right. And it was there in the office, when he watched her frowning over a press release and knew that she was going to tell him precisely what he’d said wrong—and exactly what he had to do to fix it. Most of all, it had been there in the car this afternoon, when she said so matter-of-factly that she would have dealt with her father only for him, if it had been required. That she thought he would be a good mayor. That she wanted him to win because it was important to him.
Meredith hadn’t shared his dreams. That was okay. There was nothing that said a couple needed to be equally invested in every hope. But Meredith hadn’t been willing to support him in them, either. When he had asked her to come with him, when he had suggested they try to keep things going long-distance, she wouldn’t give it a shot. To her, his dreams and wishes were simply the thing that came between them. She couldn’t see beyond that.
Jenna could. And that made her both the most amazing woman he’d known and the most dangerous one as well.
He pulled her tighter and breathed her in. Tomorrow she would walk into that interview building and knock their socks off, he was sure of it. She would get the job. How could she not? And when they called for a reference, as he knew they would, he would make sure Allison told them exactly how much she would be able to bring to their organization. He would do everything he could to make sure Jenna got her fresh start.
Even though he would much rather be giving her his heart.
***
Jenna walked out of the interview the next morning knowing that she had aced it.
It had been all she could do to keep from laughing out loud when things came to an end. Not that it had been an easy hour. Not at all. Aside from the fact that there were four people firing questions at her, all of them frantically scribbling down something as she gave her answers, the questions themselves had been tough. She’d had to dig deep and think fast and do it all while staying cool, calm, and collected.
Somewhere along the line, though, there was a shift. A moment when it hit her that she was doing this. Handling it. She was taking everything they were throwing at her and tossing it back to them, neat and tidy and pretty. A point when all she wanted to do was lean back and look them in the eye and say Bring it.
She was pretty sure they had sensed it, too. The atmosphere had shifted after that. There were a few jokes, a little laughter, some questions that she knew weren’t from the prepared list but came from genuine interest. The stuffed shirts lost a little of their batting and she caught a glimpse of the humans beneath. They seemed like good people.
She forced herself to remain sedate as she exited the sprawling old building and walked down the driveway to the sidewalk. She’d had Cole drop her off around the corner so there wouldn’t be any chance of him being spotted. Not for his protection this time, but for hers. She didn’t want any questions about her ride.
Still, she almost wished she’d tossed caution to the wind and told him to pick her up out front. Because even though it felt like she was floating above the sidewalk. she couldn’t wait to hop in beside him and give him a long kiss and tell him everything. The way she’d handled the question about her time between jobs. The reaction to her work with the election. The way she had caught the biggest boss grinning at her mention of being a barista, even though he turned it into a cough.
Yeah. She had nailed it. If they didn’t offer her the job, then damn, she wanted to meet the person who got it so she could try to steal his or her DNA and have it injected into her own cells.
She allowed herself a little semi-skip of delight—the most her leg would permit—as she headed down the block. And the best part of all? Nobody smirked knowingly at anything she said. Nobody asked what her father was doing these days. Nobody repeated her name with a questioning tone, the kind that meant, I know I recognize this but how— Oooooooooh.
This was what it felt like to be taken seriously. This was how it felt to be seen for herself, measured solely on her own merits, judged purely on her own abilities.
Cole was going to be so—
She came to a sudden stop in the middle of the sidewalk.
Hang on. Why was she imagining Cole’s reaction?
Sure, he was a fantastic guy. Yes, he was the one she was going to see in just a few minutes, the first one who would hear her tale and share her excitement. But shouldn’t she be picturing her mother’s delight? Shouldn’t she be imagining how Kyrie’s face would light up tonight when Jenna told her? Or how Bree would smile in that quiet big-sister way, give her a list of places to check out the company, and then wrap her in the most amazing hug? Shouldn’t she be already laughing in anticipation of Margie’s hoots when Jenna imitated the way one of the interviewers had stared over half-glasses until Jenna did a micro-second stare down of her own?
She should be thinking about her family. About how excited they were going to be for her, how they would join her in waiting for the offer to come in, how they would be so proud of her as they sent her off.
Instead, she kept picturing the light in Cole’s eyes when she shared the tales. How excited he would be for her. How her happiness was going to double as she told him everything.
Her joy evaporated with the speed of a popped condom.
He wasn’t supposed to mean this much to her.
Cole was her good time. Her reward for making it through the last few years, her shot of low-cal but totally wicked indulgence before she had to throw herself into making a new life. He was supposed to be a way station. But way stations didn’t make your heart ache when you imagined leaving them. Rewards didn’t make you wish that semesters would never end.
She closed her eyes and pulled up a memory she’d been fighting all day. After a predawn bathroom run—thank you, opening shift—she had tiptoed back into the room and stopped to drink in the sight of him sprawled across the bed, his naked chest beckoning to her, his warmth pulling her closer. She had shivered—not from the October chill, but from delight at knowing that she was about to climb back into that bed and snuggle herself in beside him and press against him in as many places as possible. Not for sex but just because it felt so damned good to touch him and know he was there.
For one let-guard-down moment she had wondered what it would be like to know that she could curl up beside him for the rest of her life.
For one aching heartbeat she had asked herself what would happen—what could happen—if he lost the election. If he weren’t tied to Calypso Falls. If he didn’t insist on pursuing a career where her father’s misdeeds would always lurk in the background.
What would it be like to know that what happened between them would depend only on them? To think that maybe, perhaps, they could have a chance at something even more binding than what they’d already built?
How would it feel to think that she might have a shot at forever with the man who had helped her remember that life could be wonderful again?
***
The day after her getaway with Cole, Jenna pulled up to the McDonald’s at the edge of town, killed the engine, and wondered why the hell she hadn’t brought a tiny bottle of vodka to spike her OJ. Because God knew that was the only way she was going to get through the next thirty to forty-five minutes without committing an act that would land her in jail.
Rob was already there. She saw him through the window, cradling what looked like a cup of coffee. She didn’t dare watch too long, lest he catch her, but she figured she had a few seconds.
She needed them. She needed to watch him and try to get into his head. Why was he doing this? She didn’t think he was about to apologize. If he wanted information about her or her sisters, all he had to do was develop some Google skills. He certainly couldn’t be trying to hit any of them up for money, because anyone with half a brain would figure out that none of them had any to spare. And even in the days when she’d had that, she wouldn’t have wasted any of it on him.
Or maybe he wanted to know about Mom.
As far as Jenna knew, Neenee had not confronted Rob yet. Maybe it was time for Jenna to ensure that her mother never had to.
She grabbed her purse and slammed her way out of the car. The sooner she got in there, the sooner this would be behind her.
The good news was, after these meetings her curiosity would be satisfied and Rob would have no further hold over her. She could go through the rest of her life without ever thinking about him again.
Hold tight to that one, Jenna.
Purse over her shoulder, paperboard coffee in hand, she pasted on a casual air and sauntered over to his booth.
“I’m here.” She set down the cup before sitting. Bench seats were always going to be a challenge, but there was no need to advertise that by slopping coffee all over herself.
“Morning.” His face was almost stiff, his movements jerky as he moved his cup aside. He couldn’t hide the slight tremor in his hand. Nerves? Aging? Something else?
It was no concern of hers.
“Well.” If she had to do this, she wasn’t going to sit back and let him take the lead. “I’m here as agreed. What do you need?”
Something that might have been a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t mince words, do you?”
“Never saw the point.”
“Can’t say I disagree with you.” He leaned forward. “So I’ll cut right to the chase, too. I took the bribes because we had huge hospital bills after the twins were born. I ran away to Costa Rica because I figured it would be easier for you girls to deal with a father who was dead than one who was in jail. If I could turn back time, I wouldn’t do either of them again, but I can’t, so here we are.” He leaned back. “Questions?”
Good God. Like she was supposed to be able to think after that?”
“Yes. Does being an asshole come naturally to you, or did you have to work at it?”
The bastard laughed out loud. Long and loud, head thrown back, as if she’d told him the ultimate gotcha joke.
She sipped her coffee and checked the time on her phone. Five minutes. They were off to a roaring start.
“When you were, oh, three, maybe four,” he said, peeling the lid off his coffee, “I had a leather jacket. Brown. Not deep, but almost a rust color. I told you and Bree that it was made from the skin of a bear that tried to attack me in the woods one day. Told you I wrestled it with my bare hands, snapped its neck, and carried it out of there on my shoulders so I could have it turned into a coat for me.” He tasted the coffee and grimaced. “You believed every word of it. Bree started giving me the side eye, but you? Hook, line, and sinker.”
“Most preschoolers do tend to idolize their parents. They also believe in Santa and the Easter Bunny.”
He nodded. “Those days go too fast.”
“Especially when you aren’t there for most of them.”
If she’d expected him to show any remorse at her words, she was disappointed. All she got was a nod and a quiet, “Touché.”
She blew on her coffee to buy herself some time. Not that she planned to actually drink it. Her stomach was clenched so tight, the coffee would probably bounce off it like a trampoline. But one of the things she’d learned from Kendall was that props were handy.
“Annie doesn’t seem to mind talking to me,” he said, as if to himself. “The twins totally ignore me, other than Paige telling me that if I thought I was walking her down the aisle, I should check myself into the closest mental health unit. Bree gave me the ice princess treatment. Almost expected her to start speaking in the royal we. But you . . .”
She braced herself.
“You, Jenna . . . there’s something different. There’s a level of anger there that I’m not feeling from the others. Why?”
Because you only robbed them of their past. You’re robbing me of my future.
The thought blazed across her mind like a Times Square news ticker. She blinked, because for the life of her, she didn’t know where it had come from. She had never thought that before in her life.
The way her fingers curled into her palms, though, she was pretty sure that it had sprung straight from the truth.
But there was no way in hell she was going to let him know that he was still impacting her life. At least, not any more than the obvious fact that he had essentially blackmailed her into meeting him.
“I guess maybe I’m a little less tolerant of bullshit than they are.”
“Makes sense. Divorce’ll do that to you, I’ve heard. Same for coming close to dying.”
She stared down at her coffee, adding two more items to the list of Topics To Never Discuss With Robert.
“Speaking of divorce,” she began, “Mom—”
“I’m not discussing your mother with you.”
He folded his arms tight. His face took on an expression she would never have thought she recognized, but the moment she saw it, her inner five-year-old knew that Daddy meant business.
Her outer adult perked right up.
“Still not reconciled with the fact that she didn’t welcome you back with open arms?” Jenna shook her head in mock sorrow. “Who would have thought that she wouldn’t have waited for you? I mean, it’s like those marriage vows meant nothing.”
Jenna was pretty sure she’d hit the nerve mother lode. Rob looked . . . smaller, somehow. Vulnerable.
Broken.
Until he pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped a key, and handed it to her.
He’d pulled up a contact. Paul Tadeson.
Shit.
“So tell me,” she said. “What do you do for fun in prison?”
“Play cards. Watch movies. Joke around with my friends. Probably about the same as what you do.”
“Except I don’t have guards watching me while I do it.”
“Most of the time, I didn’t, either.”
Despite herself, she was curious. “So the things they told me when I toured Alcatraz weren’t true?”
“Wouldn’t know. Never been there. Not a place I’m likely to visit, either. How’s the boyfriend?”
Oh, Rob was smooth. She’d give him that. He’d slipped it in there so casually that she almost—almost—flinched. Lucky for her, the combination of hiding in plain election sight and the final months with Kendall had taught her how to maintain a poker face.
“Even if I had one, I wouldn’t discuss him with you.”
“Jenna. Do you honestly expect me to believe that the only reason you’re working for Dekker is because you believe in his politics?”
“You can believe whatever you want.” She shrugged. “Me, I’ll stick to the truth.”
Which was exactly what this was: the truth. Cole was many things to her—too many, probably—but he wasn’t her boyfriend.
Primarily thanks to the man absently stirring his coffee.
“I don’t know,” Rob said, so casually that Jenna’s guard went even higher. “He seems awfully protective of you.”
“I really can’t see how this is any of your business.”
“Maybe you don’t believe it, Jenna, but I still love you and your sisters very much. I might have lost my right to have a say in your life, but I will never lose the right to care about what happens to you. All of you.”
She wanted to tell him, nope, he couldn’t do that, either, but the bastard had a point. Which made her want to lash out at him. Wipe the sincerity from his face. Make him hate her. Because if he hated her, he would stop caring.
She washed the impulse down with a swig of coffee. Mistake. It was still too hot. All it did was contribute to the steam building inside her.
She didn’t know if she could make Rob loathe her. Kendall had assured her she was very gifted in that department, but she suspected he had decided it was easier to decide she was a horrible, loathsome excuse for humanity than to admit that he had done wrong by her. But maybe, if she piled on the guilt, Rob might just decide that being around her wasn’t worth the hit to his own self-opinion.
“Of course,” she said, aiming for an airy tone, “even if there happened to be something between us—which there isn’t—it wouldn’t matter. Because he’s going to be mayor and I’m going to be leaving.”
“Leaving? When? Where are you going?”
Either they provided great acting lessons in jail, or her was genuinely surprised.
“The where is still being worked out. The when—that’s easier. As soon as I have my degree in my hand.” She paused for effect. “Not that I want to leave. This is home. Mom, Margie, all my memories. But as you can imagine, being your daughter in this town carries a lot of baggage, especially now that you’re back. I’m not putting up with it anymore.”
“You’re moving because of me?”
“That’s right, Daddy dearest.”
“That’s bullshit, Jenna.”
She blinked. Not just at the sentiment, but at the vehemence behind it.
He leaned forward, stabbing the table with his finger as he spoke. “You think I don’t know anything about you, and in a lot of ways, you’re right. But it doesn’t take long to figure out that you are a stubborn sack of grit and guts. You don’t collapse. You don’t roll over. And you don’t run.”
Why the hell did his assessment have to make her glow inside, just a little?
“If you are leaving town, Jenna, it’s because of you. Not me.”
She scrambled for something to throw back at him. “That’s pretty damned ridiculous, coming from the man who said that he ran away because it was easier for his children to believe he was dead than to know he was in jail.”
“Which is exactly why I know what I’m talking about.” His eyes narrowed. “Those things I told you were all true. We were buried under hospital bills. I did want to make things easier for you girls. Those are facts. Those were also the only things I let myself see, back then. Now I know there was more to it than that. That I grabbed onto those facts and let them blind me to everything else out there. Which is why I can smell a bullshitter from all the way across the room, because I’ve been there and I’ve fed myself those same lines. And I have paid the consequences, more times over than you can ever know. So hate me all you want, tell yourself I’m a delusional fool, but believe me on this one, Jenna Renee: you can lie to the world forever, but lying to yourself will always bite you in the ass. Every. Single. Time.”
Before she could pull her wits together, he was out of the booth, sweeping his cup and napkin from the table.
“See you next week.”